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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29046846">romantic love, and other incurable ailments</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/morallygreywaren/pseuds/morallygreywaren'>morallygreywaren</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Old Guard (Movie 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(can't believe I get to use that tag on a PWP fic), (in the loosest terms possible), 1920s, Anal Sex, Banter, Blow Jobs, Conversations about love, Couch Sex, Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, M/M, PWP, Pillow Talk, Porn with Feelings, Pre-Canon, Topping from the Bottom, University, amidst a philosophical crisis, but like make it intellectual, idk how else to tag that there's going to be emotional conversations and bad jokes at the same time, mentions of Freud (derogatory), no one gets psychoanalysed but it's set on a couch regardless, see also: sexy times with the love of your life and other coping mechanisms</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 06:16:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,022</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29046846</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/morallygreywaren/pseuds/morallygreywaren</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s the 1920s, they’re in Vienna, Sigmund Freud is about to invent psychoanalysis and Joe and Nicky... have sex on a couch.</p><p>Or: Love. Sometimes, you gotta get (meta-)physical about it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>275</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>SB's Fave Smut</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>romantic love, and other incurable ailments</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Continuing with the theme of ‘the guard are old as balls but have surprisingly modern opinions’ and going with the popular headcanon of ‘Nicky the eternal medicine student’, this one goes out to the OG horny scholar, <s>Yusuf al-Kaysani</s> Sigmund Freud.</p><p>(Yes, this is just gratuitous porn, with a generous side helping of Thoughts™.)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Joe can tell that something – <em> something </em> – is up with Nicky the second he steps into their apartment. It’s a small thing, barely more than a room with half a kitchenette and what you could barely call a bathroom, but they’ve had so much less over the years, he finds he doesn’t want for much at all. Neither does Nicky, he knows, but today, there is something amiss. </p><p>Usually, Joe gets a ‘hello’ from Nicky, a kiss, maybe a lingering hug if it’s been a long day. Now, Nicky walks over to where Joe is sprawled out on their chaise longue under the window in the corner, practically falls to his knees in the small space Joe’s left between his legs. Crawls up his body and gently drops his head onto Joe’s chest, right over his heart.</p><p>“Hello,” Yusuf says, lets the book he’s been reading sink to the floor, and brushes his fingers through Nicky’s hair, softly, slowly. “Is everything alright, hayati?”</p><p>Nicky sighs in response, heaved from so deep within that Joe can feel it everywhere in his body. It’s somewhere between tired and angry, and Joe is just beginning to consider whether he should be worried. But then, Nicky pushes himself up so he’s crouching between Joe’s legs, looking into his eyes. </p><p><em> Ah </em>. Determined, then. </p><p>Nicky licks his lower lip, only the tip of a pink tongue poking out for a second, and Joe finds himself hopelessly endeared all over again. And alright, a little turned on, but that is the nature of having Nicky between his legs and looking at him with the single-minded focus he usually reserves for books and weaponry. </p><p>Nicky’s hands hover over Joe’s belt. “May I?”</p><p>It’s the first thing he’s said to Joe today, but even if Joe isn’t completely sure what’s going on, there is no way he’d say no to that. If it helps Nicky work through it. He nods and leans forward to give Nicky a kiss, but Nicky is already making quick work of his belt and trouser buttons, steely determination focussed between Joe’s legs. Wordlessly, Joe lifts his hips so Nicky can pull down his trousers and underthings just enough to work his dick free. He looks at it intently, the barest of breaths ghosting over Joe’s suddenly exposed skin. He fills rapidly under both their gazes, already a little hot and bothered.</p><p>“Yusuf-” Nicky says, sounding stricken for a moment. He doesn’t use that name often anymore. But then he looks up at Joe, and there is that quiet determination again, strangely reminding Joe of the first time they’ve done this. Nicky swallows. “I love you very much.”</p><p>“Oh, Nico, I-“ And Joe reaches for Nicky, reaches for his hands on Joe’s hips, reaches for Nicky’s face and hair. But what he was going to say, what Nicky deserves to hear when he’s quiet and thoughtful and on the verge of taking Joe in his mouth, is cut clean off by Nicky licking a stripe up Joe’s dick and then sharply sucking at the tip.</p><p>Alright. <em> Not </em> like the first time they’ve done this then. </p><p>Not breaking eye contact, Nicky swirls his tongue around the tip of Joe’s dick a few times, before closing his eyes and sinking his mouth down, engulfing Joe in wet, warm heat. </p><p>He sets a slow rhythm, almost gentle, breaking off to kiss and lap at Joe each time before sucking him down. Anyone else might have thought Nicky was being slow and thorough, but after nearly 900 years together, Joe knows when Nicky is set on making him come as quickly as possible. The thought alone is enough to drive a current of desire through his whole body, his cock so hard by now he’s almost aching with it, starting to feel dizzy.</p><p>“Yes,” he breathes at a particularly sharp suckle, “yes, Nicky, if you--just like that.”</p><p>Nicky’s eyes flick open and he grins around Joe’s cock, which shouldn’t be possible, nor should it look good, but Nicky, of course, manages both. His hands have begun to roam upwards on Joe’s body, and Joe’s breath hitches as his fingers linger, featherlight, over the sensitive spots on his hip bones, his belly, his chest. They leave a trail of goosebumps in their wake and Joe shivers, reaching for one of Nicky’s hands to hold onto. </p><p>But Nicky has other plans for Joe’s hand. He gives it a quick squeeze, gentle and encouraging. Like he knows that he’s taking Joe apart right now but promises to put him back together afterwards. Then he places Joe’s hand on the side of his face so Joe feels his own cock press against the skin of Nicky’s cheek every time he sinks down, and he nearly loses his mind with wanting.</p><p>Nicky’s still looking at him but Joe needs to close his eyes, his breaths coming shallow now. It’s too much all of a sudden, the feeling of Nicky around him, so achingly tender, all sweetness and filth. He’s moaning before he’s even aware he opened his mouth to say something.</p><p>“Nicky. <em> Nicky </em>,” is all that comes out, but he’s babbling now, pawing at Nicky’s shoulders and hair with his free hand because he can’t keep his fingers off him, “Nicky, c’mere, Nicky, I need-”</p><p>Joe is close, so close already, but it’s not what he wants quite yet. As soon as Nicky pulls off again he hauls him up for a kiss. It’s a kiss that says <em> hello </em> , and it’s a kiss that says <em> I love you </em> and it’s a kiss that says <em> You take my breath away every day. I don’t know what’s brought this on but every time I look at you it feels like a blessing. </em> Nicky kisses him the same way he sucks on his cock, practically sinking into Joe with the molten heat that is the sweet drag of his tongue, the sharp sting of his lips. Joe allows himself to lose track of time for a moment under the pleasant weight and warmth of the love of his life in his arms. He almost <em> mewls </em> in protest when Nicky moves from his mouth to his neck, his chest, unbuttoning his shirt one kiss at a time. They don’t know what forever looks like, even for them, but Joe could spend eternity kissing Nicky and it would still not be enough.</p><p>His shirt is hanging open from his chest now, and Nicky is nuzzling a spot on Joe’s lower belly, close to his dick, but not touching. Joe can feel his hot breath ghost over him where he’s spit-slick and wanton and he can’t hold back anymore, he moans when Nicky slides off the couch between Joe’s legs. He’s just hovering over Joe now, fingers gripping his cock firm at the base, but he’s not moving, just his breath teasing Joe as much as his smile. </p><p>It is everything, and yet it is barely anything, but not even Joe’s thoughts are coherent anymore. Closing his eyes is all he can do not to buck his hips wildly upwards, to find any friction, any relief somewhere against Nicky’s skin, and so he nearly shouts in surprise when Nicky swallows him all the way down.</p><p>There is fervour, and then there is Nicky the way he sucks him down now, hungrily, greedily, throat constricting around Joe’s dick. It’s like the air’s being punched out of Joe’s lungs and he throws his head back, a quiet ‘<em>Ah </em>’ dying on his lips, but he barely gets any time to adjust. </p><p>Joe is dimly aware that Nicky is holding his hips down with both of his hands as he swallows around him, but he’s a cord made of sensitivity about to unspool, his spine tingling every time Nicky sinks back down anew. Joe’s bare toes are curled tight into the chaise longue beneath him when he comes, so sudden he barely has time to give any warning to Nicky. But Nicky just hums and works him through it, catching his spend on his tongue and swallowing it all, licking the tip to get the very last drop.</p><p>If it wasn’t for Nicky’s hands Joe would slide straight off the couch, he is sure of it, his body feels boneless, malleable, like his brain has momentarily stepped out. He takes a long moment to come back to himself. </p><p>“Nicky?” When his eyes focus again he expects Nicky to touch himself already, but Nicky just sits between his legs, his breath laboured, hard and straining against his pants. He takes the hand Joe is holding out to climb back up on the chaise longue, now straddling Joe. </p><p>Joe gestures to the bulge in Nicky’s trousers. “Can I?”</p><p>Nicky nods, frantically, before flinging himself at Joe to kiss him before Joe can even work his trousers open. Joe drinks the sounds Nicky makes as his hand closes around him like the sweetest of wines. Writhing and gasping in Joe’s arms, it takes no time at all before Nicky spills all over Joe’s hand.</p><p>Joe’s thoughts are still happily befuddled when he extracts his hand from between their bodies to lick Nicky’s cum off his fingers, but he doesn’t miss the guttural moan that escapes Nicky at sight before burying his face in Joe’s neck and sighing very deeply. When their breaths have both evened out and Joe doesn’t feel like he will pass out before having to string two thoughts together anymore, he slides his newly clean fingers into Nicky’s hair.</p><p>“Will you tell me what is on your mind now, my heart?”</p><p>Nicky sighs against his neck, which sends a pleasant warmth down Joe’s spine, and tries to press himself closer, which is barely possible at this point. “We fought again.”</p><p>Joe can only presume that ‘<em>we’ </em> refers to Nicky’s professor at the university, where he is studying for another degree in medicine. It is not quite the same medicine he’s studied countless times under different physicians around the world before, and he wouldn’t have needed to, so shortly after a war in which he was busy fighting alongside soldiers, then stitching them back together in trenches. But this new professor, he teaches his theories about the treatment of the mind, the soul, or at least that’s the Greek word they’re using. And after the horrors they saw in the war, the cries of terror they heard on the battlefield and at night, when their brothers in arms relived them in their dreams, well. It seemed like a sensible decision to learn about this aspect of helping people, too.</p><p>And Nicky adores it, Joe knows, for the most part. Or at least he doesn’t tire of debating his professor’s ideas with Joe over dinner. It’s just that sometimes the man will say things, or teach ideas like they’re unshakeable facts, and that’s not something Nicky reacts well to.</p><p>Joe smiles into Nicky’s hair. “What did he say this time?” </p><p>“That love doesn’t exist.” Nicky resurfaces a little, so he doesn’t speak directly against Joe’s skin anymore. “Or at least, that love how I have come to think of it, as it is between us, doesn’t exist.”</p><p>Joe arches an eyebrow. “Love between men?” The professor certainly wouldn’t be the first to believe it. And Joe wagers he won’t be the last to be wrong.</p><p>Nicky huffs a little. “We didn’t even get that far. You remember how the Greeks thought there were different kinds of love, between friends, family members and lovers? And even if most of them didn’t say so outright, they all assumed that some kinds of love were always better than others.”</p><p>“I <em> know </em> about these teachings, Nicky, I don’t remember them. Not even I am that old.” </p><p>Nicky waves his hand as if the meaning of the word remember is of no importance to him as long as he gets to tease Joe. </p><p>“So is he another who blindly follows the Greeks in all that he does?” Joe asks.</p><p>“In all but the name. What it came to was that he argues it is impossible to love a person’s mind while desiring them for their body, that true love is not real because human nature is not made for it. So I told him that it <em> feels </em> pretty real to me, and he started asking me questions as if I suffered from a strong case of delusion. Then he turned it into a lecture about how love is one of the brain’s greatest maladies.”</p><p>Joe hums and begins drawing circles on Nicky’s shoulder. “How so?”</p><p>“He says if we think ourselves in love, we destabilise our minds trying to balance the ideation of our partners with our carnal desires. Or, how did he put it? ‘We cannot sustain comforting illusions of superiority, cultivation or divinity while exchanging body fluids.’ And then he started asking me questions about my death instincts, to which I told him that mine were worse than most people’s, and left.”</p><p>Joe smiles at the thought, the little remark Nicky couldn’t help but share with him. It is fair, he is one of a handful of people who will appreciate it fully. “It got you rather worked up, though.”</p><p>Nicky pushes himself up so he can prop his head on his elbow in the space between Joe and the couch, looking down at him with an almost pained expression. “I find it hard to accept that he should be right about this.”</p><p>Joe sees now why Nicky’s face earlier had reminded him so much of the time when they first began this dance. Why kill someone over and over if not out of the determination to prove something that cannot be proven? Why stick with someone even as you find yourself disagreeing with their every word, if not out of the belief that there is another way? </p><p>“And so you thought you’d take me to bed to prove him wrong?”</p><p>Nicky looks up to the curtain that separates their bed from the rest of the room, only a few feet away, but still closed. “We didn’t quite make it to the bed.”</p><p>Joe feels a smile spread on his face, and he angles his head to kiss Nicky, slow and comforting. But there’s something in the set of Nicky’s jaw that tells him Nicky isn’t done thinking about this quite yet. </p><p>“And I don’t know if I <em>can</em> prove him wrong,” Nicky says when they break apart, “I don’t think about it often because I don’t have to, because the way I am in love with you now doesn’t need me to think about it at all.”</p><p>Frown lines appear on Nicky’s face, but he climbs more fully on top of Joe so that he is straddling him again. Joe makes space for him by pushing his head up onto the arm rest so they can look at each other more fully. </p><p>“All I know is that I felt like I’d never been unsure of anything in my life before I fell in love with you. Not that I had never doubted before, but it wasn’t anything like that feeling as if the world was ending all the time, not knowing what I should do, what I could want, what I’d be allowed to hope for. I wouldn’t have called it that back then, but it <em> was </em> destablising.” </p><p>“I think you can be forgiven for feeling confused when you felt yourself falling for a man who’d killed you time and again, rakishly handsome as he turned out to be.” </p><p>Joe grins as Nicky swats at him, joking only to lighten Nicky’s conflicting thoughts. It seems to work for a moment, and the frown lines on Nicky’s face melt away into something else altogether.</p><p>“That’s not all,” Nicky says and reaches down under the chaise longue, fingers skimming the floor as he gropes around, not taking his eyes of Joe, “Remember how long it took me to become comfortable with your poetry, how I couldn’t stand to read your beautiful lines if they were about me or my features or my actions, when all I wanted was-” </p><p>He cuts himself off, making a frustrated noise. Joe reaches into the gap between the backrest and the cushion of the chaise longue and hands Nicky the little vial of scented oil they keep there. “When all you wanted was for me to fuck you until you wouldn’t even be able to say ‘idealisation’?”</p><p>Nicky nods, taking the vial from Joe with a grateful smile and gets up to rid himself of his trousers and undergarments. It’s all happening rather quickly, and Joe is very aware that he has just come, yet his answering words still nearly dry up in his mouth.</p><p>“Nicky,” he says, pushing himself up into more of a sitting position, but it’s more of a sigh when Nicky sits back down on his lap to kiss him, naked from the waist down. There is less urgency to this kiss than the one they shared earlier when Nicky had barely greeted him, but Joe still feels himself getting hard again, his fingers digging into Nicky’s hips to ground himself.</p><p>“I didn’t idealise you,” Joe says, and he means it, in more ways than one, but it’s hard to see why when he has Nicky hovering over him, opening himself up with the oil. “The poetry I wrote about you was in the style I was taught, it was allegorical. Poets dramatised their soul’s longing for God by praising their beloved, who are themselves a creation by Allah. I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, it was just the only way I knew how to express myself back then.”</p><p>Nicky’s jaw has gone a little slack, and whether from Joe's words or his fingers, Joe wants to nip at it. But then Nicky stops fingering himself and sits back on his haunches, free hand now resting on Joe’s abdomen. He’s looking at Joe, but Joe’s not sure he’s seeing him fully.</p><p>“I know,” Nicky says, “I’m just trying to decide if that means he’s right.”</p><p>“Does it matter?" Joe leans forward to kiss Nicky’s chest, rests his head where he can feel his heartbeat. "Does it change how you feel?”</p><p>Nicky begins to shake his head, but then stops. It’s not that Nicky has trouble talking about his feelings. In all the many years they’ve spent on this earth, Joe has never known a man so adept at speaking about his feelings if they knew they were true. Nicky can be precise in his love in a way Joe hasn’t managed in all the hundreds of poems he wrote. </p><p>It’s only on the rare occasion that Nicky <em> doubts </em> what he feels, what he believes in, that the words won’t come easily. Joe looks up at Nicky, rubbing circles onto his hipbone with his thumb.</p><p>“Tell me.”</p><p>“I love you,” Nicky says, in that half-helpless, matter-of-fact way in which he always tells Joe that he loves him, “I love you and I like having you, but more than that I want to <em> know you </em> in every way.”</p><p>Then he looks down at him with such heat in his eyes Joe can feel his cock twitch where it is still trapped against his underthings. </p><p>“And I want to spend the rest of my life with you, the way I have all these centuries,” Nicky says, and begins twisting his fingers inside himself again, grinding down on Joe, “I don’t want to be told I can either admire you or want to fuck you and have it be a constant conflict if I truly love you. I love you, and I admire you, and I <em> really </em> want to fuck you, but it doesn’t <em> feel </em> like a conflict.”</p><p>“Maybe we’re past that,” Joe says, and Nicky shifts, his erection dragging over Joe’s in his trousers in a way that has Joe shivering all over again, “maybe we can have it both.”</p><p>“But isn’t that greedy? To have so much already and want even more?” Nicky's words are at odds with the way he is circling his hips now, insistently rubbing himself against Joe.</p><p>“That’s a different question, Nico, and I’m not letting you do another degree in theology.”</p><p>“So <em> that’s </em> where you draw the line for being too greedy?”</p><p>“That’s where I draw the line for you being insufferable on purpose,” Joe growls. Nicky still has two fingers, maybe more buried in his ass, but Joe tries not to think about that as he works his hands under Nicky's shirt to tickle him.</p><p>“No!” Nicky protests, both his hands coming to Joe’s shoulders to fend him off, but he’s laughing into Joe’s mouth when he kisses him. And Joe’s just gotten off, and he shouldn’t feel this breathless, this <em> needy </em> again already, but he falls on Nicky like a starving man. His hands find Nicky’s ass, lifts him up only enough so they can lie on the couch together, have Nicky underneath him as Nicky pushes the still-open trousers off Joe’s hips.</p><p>Joe is still working on the buttons of Nicky’s shirt when Nicky pushes his hands away and swings his legs up to rest on Joe’s shoulders.</p><p>“Nicky,” he says, but there’s no arguing him when he’s in a mood like this, still-slick fingers already reaching for Joe, for more oil, lining him up. Nicky moves his hips in a slow grinding rhythm that has Joe sliding between his cheeks, dick catching at his hole but not going in. For that, Joe would have to hold fast, hold tight onto Nicky and push in, but he’s too lost in his eyes to do that, just yet.</p><p>“Joe,” Nicky says and blinks up at him slowly, “You should fuck me now.”</p><p>“Yes,” Joe says, like he’s forgotten that’s what they’re here for and then he does as he’s told, sliding into the wet heat that is Nicky’s body, feeling him open to him around a moan that carries between them. When he’s buried all the way inside, Joe pauses to give Nicky time to adjust, but he shakes his head.</p><p>“Move,” he says, rolling his hips again, and Joe thinks it shouldn’t be him who’s already so affected by this, but he can’t help it, he is horribly, hopelessly turned on. Nicky reaches up to slide his hands into Joe’s curls, pulling him closer. Nicky’s nearly bent in half now, and Joe hasn’t even started fucking him in earnest yet, but even though they’ve just come, Joe knows it’s not going to take long, like this.</p><p>“I think I've got it now,” Nicky whispers into his ear, “We're not past it, but that doesn't mean we can't be all these things."</p><p>His fingers tighten a little in Joe's curls every time Joe fucks into him, little puffs of air punctuating his speech. Joe drops his forehead onto Nicky's shoulder and reaches for Nicky's cock that lies leaking between them. Nicky hisses when he swipes his finger over the tip and starts to work him with a merciless pace. He won't be long now and he wants to take Nicky with him.</p><p>"We exchanged bodily fluids long before we loved each other and what I feel for you sexually and intellectually and romantically are all part of my love. I don’t appreciate you making coffee for me in the mornings less just because I also drank your cum the evening before.”</p><p>And even if Joe knew what he should say to that, when Nicky nips at his neck he is coming so hard he sees stars for a moment. He fucks Nicky through it, gasping against his skin as he works him with his hand, peppers kiss after kiss on Nicky's collarbone until Nicky coates his fingers with his spend once more. They slump against the backrest, sweat cooling rapidly on their bodies.</p><p>When their breaths have evened out again, Nicky kisses his neck. “You know I was thinking, maybe you should try and become an analyst.”</p><p>“Yes?” Joe huffs out a laugh, and Nicky hums in agreement.</p><p>“You’re great at seeing to people on couches.”</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I was midway through writing this when I realised that setting this Freudian adventure of a ‘porn with feelings’ fic on a literal couch in Vienna was perhaps a bit on the nose. Guess it must have been a subconscious decision. (Yes, okay, I’ll stop now.)</p><p>Anyway, do take everything in this with a grain of salt, the opinions and thoughts they share are largely based on <em><a href="https://www.hive.co.uk/Product/Frank-Tallis/The-Incurable-Romantic--and-Other-Unsettling-Revelations/22979304">The Incurable Romantic</a></em> (yes, that’s the title) by Frank Tallis, which is an interesting read if you’re into psychopathological forms of love, but not the most scientific there is.  </p><p>(Also in case you're wondering - Nicky is studying 'medicine' in this because psychology the way we know it and how it's taught at Western universities today didn't exist yet. You can say about Freud what you will (and you should, his theories are ripe for criticism from virtually all angles) - he kinda did revolutionise the way physicians thought about mental health at the time.</p><p>That being said, he was very much not the first to come up with all that stuff on the subconscious, dreams, and sex drives - there’s actually been a <i>bunch</i> of medieval Islamic scholars who had surprisingly similar theories on the human mind. (The first psychiatric ward actually predates Joe and Nicky - it was founded by Muhammad ibn Zakariya al-Razi in Baghdad in the 9th century.)</p><p>I only bring this up because I kinda wanted to weave in that Joe and Nicky might have known about some of this stuff before encountering Freud (as you do) but then there isn't any reason they would just know random theories from some scholar who lived in a country they’d probably not even been to at a time when information very much wasn’t just available with a few clicks. Also this was just supposed to be porn, and this is already the weirdest pillow talk ever. 😅</p><p>This tangent has been going on for way too long, but while I’m at it: If, for some reason, you did not come here for the porn, I highly recommend you read <a href="https://link.springer.com/article/10.1007/s10943-004-4302-z">this article</a> and <a href="http://assets.press.princeton.edu/chapters/i11183.pdf">this one</a>. Or you can hit me up on <a href="https://morallygreywaren.tumblr.com/ask">tumblr</a>, I’m happy to talk porn <em>and</em> psychology any time.)</p><p>And finally, thank you to <a href="www.satanatemymovies.tumblr.com">@satanatemymovies</a> for making sure I use historically accurate lube and trouser fastenings - I'd be lost without you and will repay the favour as I always do, by sharing horny gifs of Matthias Schoenaerts without warning. &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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